


Metamorphosis

by xsilverdreamsx



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Bullying, Child Abuse, Dementia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Kriem grows, so do the voices in her head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the T&B kinkmeme [prompt](http://t-and-b-anon.dreamwidth.org/4163.html?thread=6523203#cmt6523203): How did Kriem get her powers?  
> I've cleaned up and edited this story a little from the original posting. 
> 
> Warnings for bullying and a singular incident of child abuse

She's four when she first hears them.

At first, she doesn't think about the voices. After all, she's used to the sounds of chatter coming from the adults surrounding her, most of them from her mother’s book club. But unlike those times, when the sounds of their chatter would die away as they get bored of her, the voices don't stay silent. It's a constant murmur, going on and on in her ear.

It's comforting, especially on the days when she spills something on the carpet and Mama yells at her and Papa looks annoyed. The voices wrap themselves around her like a blanket, soft, warm, murmuring and rocking her to sleep, drying her tears.

*

She's six when the voices begin to speak. The murmuring over the two years have increased in tempo, insistent, never forming into any words or languages that she can understand. Yet today, something is different.

 _Kriem_ , they whisper at first. She wakes up from her sleep, looking around curiously, but there's never anyone else there.

 _Kriem_ , they whisper the next day. _Free us._ And they continue chanting her name, as if she is her savior, her only hope, her only friend. But she never sees them.

*

When she reaches seven, everything changes.

By now she's managed to separate the voices in her head. There's the dry, dispassionate voice, the one that sounds like dry wood and dust. There's the squeaky voice, the one that sound cute and fluffy and happy all the time. There's the one that sounds sad, unhappy, droopy, and she always, always thinks about the toy dog, the one with the sad ears and unhappy face, that sits at the corner of the room.

"Are you listening to me, Kriem?" her mother asks, annoyed, but Kriem doesn't reply. Her head is tilted, looking at the wall that's covered in hearts and spades, a Cheshire cat grinning in the corner. It's from a story she loves, about a girl named Alice, who tries to leave this wonderful place to find her way home.

She's always wondered, why would anyone want to leave a place where there are talking objects and animals and tea parties and a Jack of hearts to play with. Surely it was a wonderful place to live in, she thinks.

"Kriem, stop daydreaming and pay attention," her mother snaps, yanking her out of her seat.

It hurts, hurts badly, the way her mother is holding her wrists, twisting them, as if she's doing it on purpose. She doesn't understand why.

"Mama," she whimpers, but then her face is stinging, her ears ringing from the hard slap delivered across her cheek. Her eyes fill up with tears from the pain, the ache grows in her childish heart.

"Kriem," her mother gasps, sounding odd (shocked? but it couldn't be, she had been so angry), "I didn't mean--"

Mama had slapped her.

Mama had hurt her.

Mama had hurt Kriem.

_Kriem is hurt Kriem is hurt Kriem is hurt Kriem is hurt_

The screams of her mother rang through the house, accompanied by the snarling sound of dog that had come to life, right before her very eyes.

*

 _She's a NEXT, I'm afraid._ The man in the white coat sounds disgusted, annoyed.

 _Can't you do anything for her? Is there any way to cure her?_ her mother pleads.

The man in the white coat shakes his head. Kriem is reminded of the doll in her room, the one with the head that sways from side to side, and thinks of how it resembles him.

She touches the object that's hanging around his neck, the one he used earlier to listen to her heart. He recoils, trying to move away, but it's too late.

The thing slips itself off his neck, crawling towards Kriem, wrapping itself around her arm like a warm bracelet, making soft humming sounds.

"Get that-- that _thing_ away from me!" the man shrieks, as he tries to back away.

Her mother is looking at her in horror. Her father steps between her and Kriem.

"Papa?" Kriem asks in confusion, but her Papa looks scared, and angry.

The ride home is long and quiet. Kriem shivers a little, feeling cold from the car's air-conditioning, and waits for her mother to notice, to hug her and keep her warm.

Her mother doesn't hug her.

Her mother never hugs her again.

*

She goes to school. Everything is fine for the first two months, before it begins again.

This time, it's a boy, all swagger and arrogance.

He trips her and she lands on the ground, at his feet. He's busy laughing at her, his friends laughing and pointing and sneering at her when she doesn't stop to think, she touches the shoelaces on his shoes.

They come to life instantly, needing no further coaxing to wrap themselves around the boy's ankles, pulling him towards the swing and dangling him from the bar, upside down. He screams; he shouts; he continues to call Kriem names, but by the time he's hanging there like a bat, the other kids are staring at Kriem in disgust and fear.

After that, her parents are called and she's kept in her room for two months (not that she minds, her room is full of friends and if she's bored she can always make a new one).

No one talks to her or comes close to her after the incident. They whisper behind her back, and call her names.

When she looks at them, they sneer, or giggle, but no one ever talks to her nicely again.

Her parents send her to a different school. By then rumors have already spread through the school grapevines and it’s the same all over again.

*

"I hear she's not a normal human."

It's the same phrase, every time, at every school, on every bus ride she takes, as she's quietly walking past her fellow classmates whose faces she has given up on trying to remember. Over the years, they melt and merge together into one blank face, nameless and expressionless, the kind that always judges her wherever she goes.

"How creepy."

Their voices are louder than the ones in her head, and they are cold, sharp and painful.

*

She tiptoes towards the living room. She can hear them, hear the sobs of her mother, as her father comforts her. She peeks through the gap in the door, and sees them seated on the couch, the fire dancing merrily in front of them in the fireplace.

Their backs are facing her, but she can hear every word.

"Shh, Kriem can hear you--"

"What if she can? We're being treated like monsters because of her!" her mother says in between sobs.

She's heard this all before, even to her face. It's nothing new.

_They're the monsters, not you_

She wants to answer, but she keeps silent, not wanting to give herself away, as her doll continues soothing her.

Her parents no longer loved her. She knew that. But she still couldn't stop wishing and hoping.

The next words, however, cut deep into her, leaving a gaping wound that would never heal except to be filled with anger and hatred.

"If I'd known she was a NEXT, I wouldn't have given birth to her."

*

The needle that she forms from a strand of her hair is cold against her fingers, sharp, reminding her of her mother's cruel cruel words. How could a mother treat her own child, her own flesh and blood, as if she was less than human?

But perhaps, perhaps they were all right. She's not normal. She's different.

The needle gleams in her hand, her doll resting on her lap, looking up innocently at her and she wonders, just for a second, what if--

The gloved hand that covers her mouth suddenly eliminates that train of thought, just as another grabs her wrist, pulling it away from the doll, causing the needle to tumble out of her hand, falling, falling down--

*

"Don't make a fuss."

She doesn't.

The new voice should frighten her. But somehow, it doesn’t. She's not afraid. Startled, perhaps, at the rough way she's being dragged off (she can't move her hands, can't bring her Dolly with her), but yet, she's not afraid.

*

The warehouse is cold, damp, as the person who has taken her (his name is Jake, as she discovers later on) leaves her alone most of the time. He wants money, that's all. But he will kill her if her parents don't deliver it to him.

She still hopes, even if for one brief moment, that her mother still loves her. That her father still remembers her as his child.

That they would come save her.

*

In the end, no one comes.

No one saves her.

Except for Jake.

*

Jake teaches her to live again, after she throws herself at him, begging him to kill her, to end her life. Because she has nothing; everything she has touched has caused nothing but pain and anguish and unhappiness to the people around her.

Jake teaches her that the people around her are unworthy of her. They're beneath us, he tells her, wiping her tears away, holding her close against his chest, warm and comforting. Her place, he tells her, was never to walk among them, but above them.

The voices are back now that the mindless chatter of the world is gone. She recognizes them now; the little spark in everything around her that exists. They cry out, asking her to release them from their prison, to set them free, so that they can serve her.

She is their master, their savior, and their friend.

Just as they changed her, so many years ago, when she had been alone and lost, she begins to change them.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, just playing in the sandbox. 


End file.
